


Real-Time Results

by LJC



Category: Jake 2.0
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LJC/pseuds/LJC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake Foley still looks 26.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real-Time Results

**Author's Note:**

  * For [okdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okdreaming/gifts).



Jake didn't notice at first. After all, how do you notice something _not_ changing?

It wasn't until he found Diane frowning at her reflection in their bathroom mirror before work one morning that he even thought about it.

She'd leaned in close to mirror, and still scowling, pulled a hair from her hairline. It was brown until about an inch from the root, which was white against her fingertips. She dropped it in the toilet, swearing

He'd laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

"So vain."

"Easy for you to say--men get distinguished, whereas women just get old."

"You're not old."

"Tell that to my mother. We'll see if you're still laughing when you get _your_ first grey hair."

He laughed again, and then forgot about it.

* * *

Jake shifted in the blue plastic chair, trying to get comfortable. The worn linoleum floor was the colour of spoiled milk, and three kids were running around the waiting room, shouting and laughing at each other in Spanish while their tired-looking father sat slumped in another designed-to-give-you-back-problems chair, struggling with a form.

Jake was about to offer to help him, when his iPhone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, cupping his hand over it, eyes straying to the "no phones" sign over the waiting area.

"Hello?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jake?"

"Yes, Kyle?"

"Where are you? We have a briefing."

Jake winced. The department briefing. He knew there was something he was supposed to be doing this morning besides waiting in endless lines. "I'm at the DMV."

"What?" If it was possible to hear Kyle's raised eyebrow, he was. Loud and clear.

"My license expired--"

"Seriously? You couldn't..." there was a pregnant pause, "you know. The DMV?"

"No. Why would I do that? I could do that?"

"Yeah. You could. Clearly, you didn't. What number are you?"

He glanced down at the pink slip of paper from the machine clutched between two fingers. "Ninety-two."

"What number are they on?"

"Thirty-seven."

And now he could hear Kyle's eye-roll. " _That_ you could... you know."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I could--"

Kyle sighed heavily. "I'll have Carver reschedule the briefing."

"Thanks, Kyle."

Jake stared at the wall of stations, and saw one DMV employee approaching her desk at the far end. He stared at the red LED display above her desk, which flashed thirty-nine once before changing to ninety-two. He stepped over, a guilty flush pinking the tips of his ears as he handed her his social security card, change of address form, and his expired licence.

"Wow," the DMV employee--Cheryl--said thirty minutes later as she handed him the still warm plastic licence.

"What?" 

"You must have really great genes." She ran his credit card for the renewal and handed him back receipt. "Except for the haircut, the picture looks the exactly the same."

Jake glanced down at the expired licence in his hand, and the new Maryland licence. She was right. Except for the haircut, the photos were nearly identical.

He gave her a crooked smile. "Sorry to waste your time."

"It is what it is," she said with a shrug. "See you again in eight years."

* * *

It was grey and drizzling when Jake pulled the rental car up to Kevin and Jenny's house, gravel crunching beneath the wheels. 

He nudged Diane, who had dozed off during the drive from the airport. They'd taken the red-eye, and she'd been in her lab working with Dr Yoshida until midnight.

"M'wake..." she muttered as she blinked, readjusting her glasses.

"You can nap after the christening," Jake reminded her as he pocketed the keys, not even bothering with the key-fob as he popped the trunk.

They grabbed their bags and rushed onto the porch, Jake laughing as Diane wiped at her fogged up and wet glasses, her dark brown curls frizzing.

Kevin opened the door, and Jake almost did a classic double-take. Kevin's curly blond hair was now cut short, his forehead shiny where the receding hairline had continued to recede in the ten years since his wedding. There were lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, which deepened as he smiled.

"Jake, Diane! So glad you guys could make it. Jenny! They're here!" he called back over his shoulder as he took their bags.

Jenny came from the kitchen, baby Ava balance on her hip and their eldest daughter Claire at her heels. Even Jenny looked older, Jake realised dimly as he kissed her cheek while Diane gave Claire a hug. Her face had lost its youthful roudness, cheekbones more pronounced and her smile lines had deepened.

"Aunt Diane, I got Lego! Come see all my Lego..." Claire grabbed Diane's hand, pulling her toward the stairs.

"She's so _big_ ," Jake said, still slightly stunned. 

"She's a _very_ grown up seven," Jenny said with a fond smile. Claire's shoes lit up as she walked, little LED diodes in the heels of her pink and purple sneakers.

* * *

That night, after the family dinner with Jenny's parents at a local seafood restaurant, Jake and Diane fell into the queen sized bed in Kevin and Jenny's guestroom. 

Claire had run Diane ragged all day, and Ava had cried all through the mass and exchanged her fancy lace-trimmed christening gown for a striped onesie with bright yellow ducks the second they'd got home from the church.

"You've been quiet," Diane said, covering her mouth as she yawned wide enough for her jaw to crack. 

"Just... wow. Kevin and Jenny are _grown-ups_."

Diane laughed, shifting so her head rested on Jake's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer.

"Just a long way from the guy I used to play beer pong with in college, you know?"

"Well, you're a long way from the IT tech trying to pick up chicks with his NSA ID in bars on the hill, Mister Senior Field Agent."

"I should never have told you that story."

"You didn't. Darin did, at our wedding." She yawned again. "I can't believe he flew in from Hawaii."

"I can't believe the NSA sent _him_ to Hawaii, and stuck _me_ over a deli."

"You need to let that go."

"I know. It's just... weird. I was looking at the photo album with Claire, and there were all these pictures from Kevin's wedding, and it just… They've changed so much and I feel like I'm still that guy."

"I love that guy. I married that guy."

He grinned down at the top of her head.

"And am I ever glad you did."

Diane leaned up to kiss him, and within a few minutes she was asleep.

But Jake lay awake for a long time, sleep eluding him.

* * *

The mission in Caracas could have gone better.

A _lot_ better, Jake mused, as Fran fussed over the dressing on his shoulder. 

He'd taken two hits during the mission. The first was a through-and-through that had already scarred over by the time he and his team made it to evac. But the second had been buried deep in the muscle, nicking bone. 

For any other agent, it would have meant a desk job and rehab. Thanks to the nanites, he'd be back in the field within the week. 

"Even with the nanites, it'll take a few days to heal," she said as she replaced the gauze pad. "You should have come in sooner."

He shrugged, and then wished he hadn't. "I had to debrief."

"Next time, surgery first, then paperwork." Fran poked him in his good shoulder with a stiff finger.

"I know. I know. Take it easy for a few days. No death-defying stunts."

"Forget stunts--just don't rip the tendons doing you-know-what with you-know-who."

"Just because I'm married to your boss doesn't mean you can't say her name."

Fran made a face. "As happy as I am that Diane is getting laid on a regular basis, I still wish I didn't know so much about her sex life."

"Sorry?" Jake offered.

" _Not_ sorry," Fran muttered, trying the bandage extra tight around his shoulder. Jake winced, and only half of it was for show.

"All set?" Diane asked as she came over, setting her tablet down to inspect Fran's handiwork.

"Fran took care of me. And also cautioned me against any bedroom gymnastics."

"Oh _really_."

"La la la can't hear you!" Fran called from the other side of the lab.

"Not to quote Kyle--or _Lethal Weapon_ \--or anything, but I am getting too old for this shit," Jake sighed as he buttoned his shirt. "Assuming, you know..."

"Huh? What?"

"That I'm actually getting older."

"What? Of course you are."

"Am I, though? Look at me. I mean, really look at me. No grey hair, no wrinkles--"

"Jake, you're thirty-six, not fifty-six."

"The nanites repair cellular damage, right? If they heal this--" he gestured to his shoulder, "then why not everything? Isn't ageing cellular damage?"

Diane opened her mouth to reply, but Agent Carver stuck her head into the lab.

"Jake, Kyle wants you in SatOps."

"Thanks, Susan. On my way." Jake bussed Diane's cheek with a quick kiss as he buttoned the cuffs on his shirt. "Look, can you run some tests?"

"You're _insane_ , but yes." Diane pursed her lips, her hand going automatically to the pendant of her necklace. She only did that when she was worried, Jake knew. "I'll take a tissue sample, and run some tests. We've got all your data on file, going back to before the nanites."

"Thank you. Love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

Diane woke up to find Jake's half of the bed empty. Running her hand over the mattress, it was cool. She pulled on her glasses, and blinked at the clock. 3:21 am.

Padding downstairs in just her socks and tee-shirt, she found Jake standing in the kitchen, glass of water and his tablet on the counter. The only light in the room was from the LED display on the microwave, casting an eerie amber glow over the granite countertops.

Jake was in front of the sliding glass doors, staring out into the backyard. Diane wrapped her arms loosely around his waist, and rested her forehead against his shoulder blade.

"Can't sleep?"

"I had a nightmare."

He turned in her arms, and she could see his eyes were wet.

"Is this about what we talked about in the lab the other day?"

He nodded miserably.

"I dreamed... it was, I dunno. Like one of those post-apocalyptic futures. Like _Terminator_ or _The Hunger Games_. Except all there was was rubble and smoke. And I was alone. I mean completely alone. It was like an Alan Moore _Superman_ story."

"Alan Moore wrote that? I thought he wrote the one with the hallucinogenic plant."

"No, I mean, if Alan Moore had written--never mind. You know what I mean."

She wished she didn't, but she did. Her arms tightened around him, before dropping back down to her sides.

"I was reading," he gestured to his tablet. "About DNA and telomeres and the biological processes of ageing."

"Reading a few Wikipedia entries doesn't make you a biogerontologist."

"No, but what if I'm right? Do you know what Agent Barlow said, before the Caracas mission? He asked if I was old enough to drink, let alone lead a field team."

"Barlow is an _ass_." She sat down on one of the kitchen stools, and picked up his glass to drink the remaining water.

"Barlow was right. You said it yourself--I'm thirty-six. But I still look like a kid. A junior agent. And don’t say it's just good genes--Jerry looks older than I am right now, and by the time he was my age, my dad had already started losing his hair. Am I going to be 26 forever? Are you going to be in your eighties, and I'll look like I'm barely old enough to shave?"

"Hey, maybe I like the idea of everyone thinking I've got a young stud when I'm in my eighties."

"Diane, it's not funny. It really isn't. What if a hundred years from now, you're gone--you, and Kyle, and Jerry, and Kevin and Jenny. What if a hundred years from now I'm still 26, but everyone I know is gone?"

"Fran and I are still working on the samples, and all the data from the mice."

"Too bad Antonio didn't survive. He and I would probably have a lot of talk about, right about now."

"Assuming you could speak mouse."

"Or Italian."

"The hardest thing about this kind of research--there's no way to really know without, you know... waiting ten or twenty years."

"I know. Real-time results."

"No matter what happens, I promise you. You won't be alone."

She folded him into a hug, getting up on her tiptoes and pressing her body fully against his. He buried his face in her hair.

* * *

Diane stared at the results, took off her glasses, cleaning them for the third time, and replaced them on her nose.

"Kyle's going to kill you," Fran said quietly.

"What Deputy Director Duarte--or for that matter, the Ethics Committee doesn't know--"

"Seriously, Diane. Kyle is going to _kill_ you." 

"Well, if I'm right about this--he can try. But it probably won't work."

She tapped the syringe a few times, and then made a fist.

"I made a promise."

"It was a stupid promise," Fran said with a scowl, but pressed the plunger on the syringe anyway.

* * *

Diane patted the glass table in the medlab, and Jake obediently hopped up onto it. She gestured with the syringe and he began unbuttoning his cuff.

"Taking or giving?"

"Taking." She pushed up his sleeve. "I'm introducing new command code via a chemical vector--"

"I remember how it works. Upgrade?"

"Think of it more as a _down_ grade." She wiped the inside of his elbow with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. "You were right about the telomeres--this won't affect cellular regeneration from your healing factor. But if I'm right--and I think I'm right, I mean I'm 98% sure I'm right, cellular senescence won't be affected."

"Cellular senescence being ageing."

"Yes."

"When will we know if it worked?"

"Oh, in ten or twenty--"

"Days?" he said hopefully. "Weeks?" he added at the look on her face. "Years. Great."

"Hey, I told you before… This kind of research requires--"

"Yeah, I know." He dropped his head, resting his forehead on her sternum. "Real-time data for real-time results," he said pretty much directly to her breasts.

Diane ran the fingers of one hand through his short dark hair. "Right." 

"By the way, you've been wearing your contacts a lot lately. What's up with that?"

"Just… thought it was time for a change," she said with a shrug.

* * *

Diane was half-awake when Jake yelled from the bathroom. It was a good kind of yell, not a "I slipped and cracked my head on the sink" kind of yell (which unfortunately after twelve years together, she recognised the sound of).

She had about four seconds of debating whether she should crawl out of her nice, warm bed at--she blinked at the clock--5:39am before she sighed, and threw back the covers.

"What is it?"

"Look!" Jake pointed to his head.

"What am I looking at?"

"Look," he repeated, bending down, and there at his hairline was a single white hair. It was almost invisible--but it was there.

"So vain," she muttered, laughing as he wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around in a wide circle. Her hip grazed the sink, and she planted her feet firmly on the floor.

"We don't have to be out of bed for another hour."

"I'm not really tired--"

"That's not what I said."

"Oh."

She walked him backwards toward the bed, mouth on his and hands buried in his hair.

And Jake never noticed the LED clock switching the alarm from 6:45 to 7:30.


End file.
